


salvation (sick & sweet)

by lofticries



Category: The Devil All the Time (2020)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood, F/M, Fantasizing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lenora Lives, Pseudo-Incest, Religious Guilt, Suicide Attempt, and is in love with her brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26612227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lofticries/pseuds/lofticries
Summary: Lenora burns bright for the things she cannot have. That's always been Arvin.
Relationships: Arvin Russell/Lenora Laferty
Comments: 24
Kudos: 52





	salvation (sick & sweet)

**Author's Note:**

> This movie is so bad but I'm obsessed with them.
> 
> I've actually been working on this since I saw the movie over a month ago but well... it grew legs, and teeth and I got carried away (like always)
> 
> Notes:  
> -There's a part in the book where Lenora considers them star-crossed lovers. So I took that and fleshed out their relationship, and took a lot of liberties with rebuilding their dynamic  
> -I did take a lot of the canon movie dialogue but I rewrote a couple of scenes just to fit my purposes better  
> -This was written with the idea that Arvin is two years older but genuinely I don't know if he's supposed to be 17 or 18 since he's out of school... so I kept it a little vague  
> -Writing the language to be period appropriate was difficult but I TRIED okay!!! Pls forgive me for unrealistic dialogue
> 
> Thank you Bri ([soitgoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soitgoes/profile)) for letting me whine and indulging me about these two LOL
> 
>  **Warning:** The sex between Lenora and the preacher is referenced multiple times in this fic. It's not very explicit, but it's there. While it's clearly sexual assault, Lenora's perspective on it isn't indicative of that. Since the fic takes the approach she's in love with Arvin, it's framed very differently. Hopefully this is enough warning but please let me know if you need more tags
> 
> I listened to a LOT of Sufjan to help with the religious tone of this, particularly [For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=59BRCOiQVKI&ab_channel=sprigspring) and [Vito's Ordination Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=po5vpwuBhB0&ab_channel=SufjanStevens-Topic)

Arvin is only ten when he first takes a hit for Lenora’s sake.

It’s after Sunday school and Gene Dinwoodie and some other boys are pulling at the braids that Grandma Emma so painstakingly did for her, teasing her worn stitched dress and throwing her beloved copy of the Bible on the ground, stomping their black shiny shoes all over it.

Lenora watches it all happen with a trembling bottom lip and bursts into tears. This eggs the other boys on and their cackling overpowers her quiet cries.

They don’t even see him coming.

Arvin and Lenora are small for their age, underfed and dirt-poor, but what everyone else doesn’t know is Arvin is smart. And unlike his sister, he sees no need to play fair.

Gene goes down like a sack of potatoes with Arvin’s vicious kick to the back of his knees. Arvin is scrawny but scrappy, punching out at the other boys with a loud war cry. Lenora watches with wide eyes.

But three to one ain’t good odds and pretty soon Arvin is on the ground, covering his face as they kick him. Lenora shrieks with alarm, jumping to action, and beating on Gene’s back with her little fists, begging him to stop. He pushes her away and she falls to the ground, inciting Arvin’s fury all over again.

By the end of it, Arvin’s got a bloody nose and black eye, Lenora’s elbows and knees all scraped. She cries all the way on the walk home, Arvin holding her hand and practically dragging her back. 

Grandma Emma fusses over both of them and Lenora sniffles as she cleans them both up. Later when they’re on the porch and once Lenora’s tears finally dry up, she scolds him. “Don’t do that again! You’ll get hurt!”

Arvin pointedly looks at her scratched-up knees and shrugs. “They hurt you first. They’re some real no-good sons of bitches.”

Lenora’s mouth drops open. “Don’t _say_ that,” she whispers, scandalized. 

Arvin shrugs again. “My daddy used to say that ‘bout the bad fellas in our town.” 

They both fall silent at that. It’s the first time Arvin’s brought up either of his parents. Lenora talks often of her mama and whether her daddy’s out there, but anything she knows about Willard and Charlotte Russell comes from Grandma Emma.

“Anyway,” he says finally, looking away from her and out into the road. “Don’t worry. It’s my job to protect you.”

He doesn’t elaborate on that and falls into one of those quiet contemplative moods he often gets. Uncle Earskell often says Arvin’s the most serious child he’s ever met. Lenora knows she won’t get another word out of him so she just throws her arms around his shoulders in a side-hug. Arvin grunts and pats her hand roughly in return, used to her sudden displays of affection.

Later that night, during her nightly prayers, Lenora prays extra hard for Arvin’s parents. They’re gone, just like hers and she knows everyone is sad about it. It is a sad thing.

But she is mighty grateful that God sent Arvin to her.

* * *

Growing up, Lenora has always known the two of them are outsiders. Orphans, the both of them, coming from two terribly tragic families, living under the same roof. Raised by people who’ve lost people too.

But even knowing that doesn’t prepare her for high school. Complete isolation from the other girls and teasing from the same bullies from her youth. The teachers are good about stopping that kind of torment if they see it, but none of them can quite look her in the eye.

It stings a little, knowing if she tries to reach out she’ll just be turned away. When she’s younger, she tries, but most of her attempts to make friends fall flat. The town girls laugh at her and the other poor ones just ignore her.

But she’s not completely alone. Not when she has Arvin.

More often than not, they spend their lunches together outside, far away from the crowd. She’ll nibble on her sandwich before giving the rest to him. Arvin always frowns, scolds her for her “bird-eatin’ habits.” 

But he always takes it from her. Lenora knows him well.

Usually she reads the whole lunch hour while he smokes a cigarette. Lenora especially likes the cool breezy days he’ll sit next to her, the solid warmth of his thigh pressing against hers. He doesn’t like it much when she reads aloud from the Bible, so she’s taken to romance novels that her grammar teacher lends her.

“Ain't that lovely?” she’ll ask him after she’s done with a passage. Lenora tries to avoid reading anything that’s got kissing in it. The last time she did that, Arvin’s eyes had gotten so wide and he hadn’t been able to meet her gaze all week. It was awful embarrassing. Especially considering how Arvin is about kissing.

Arvin doesn’t really have much to say about her novels. Arvin doesn’t really have much to say, period, but he listens and it’s enough for Lenora. Sometimes they just sit quietly and Lenora lets her mind run free, wandering and wandering.

After she’d bled for the first time, Grandma Emma claimed she was a woman now. Dinnertime topics from that moment on would often center around Lenora’s future husband, and Uncle Earskell’s earnest promises that he’d find her a decent man.

Arvin always stayed quiet during those conversations.

“Did you know?” Grandma Emma’s voice had taken on a wistful, longing tone, the way it would whenever she brought up her deceased son. “My Willard and Helen - Lenora’s mother, Arvin - I was fixin’ to get them married you know.” 

Lenora remembers Arvin looking down, seemingly uninterested in the conversation. Emma’s eyes were shiny with tears as she quietly recollected another story of Helen, who often came to visit her while Willard was away at war.

“Well,” she finishes the story, dabbing a cloth to her eyes. “Both of ‘em ended up meeting their own sweethearts so that’s that.”

Lenora hadn’t meant any harm. But looking at Grandma Emma’s sad face and Uncle Earskell’s solemn gaze and Arvin’s silence, she just lets it out. “Well,” she said rather cheerfully, “when we grow up, I can marry Arvin. It’ll be like joinin’ our families just like you wanted.”

Her suggestion was met with silence. Grandma Emma hadn’t looked sad anymore, just shocked and Earskell started clearing his throat, a sign he was uncomfortable. Arvin’s head jerked towards her, looking startled at her words.

“Lenora sweetheart,” Emma had said after a few moments of heavy silence. “Arvin… is your brother. You know that don’t you?”

Lenora knows. Arvin is her brother. He’s also everything else. Best friend, confidant. Husband doesn’t feel like too much of a stretch for the next step. At least, not to her. 

Yet the combined stares of her adoptive family was enough to make her want to melt into a puddle of shame. “It wouldn’t be right,” Earskell says with an air of finality. He’s not cruel or angry, that’s not Uncle Earskell. But he is firm. Her feelings are wrong. They can't exist in this house.

Lenora doesn’t mention it again.

The rest of dinner was quiet. Arvin hadn’t said a single word. All he had done was rest a hand on her knee when the other two were looking the other way. To comfort her. 

Lenora often thinks back to that night. Especially in her private fantasies, thinking of strong arms sweeping her off her feet and to somewhere bright and warm. Her hero’s vague face slowly but surely filling out with Arvin’s features.

The thing is, Lenora doesn’t have a lot of experience with boys. They either torment her or annoy her. She doesn’t care much to include them in her daydreams.

Arvin is her only point of reference. At least, the only point she cares for. Her brother is still young, but his features are maturing from the boyish roundness of his youth. She likes his face. It’s a nice face. Her favorite one, in fact.

A little dreaming on her own won’t do neither of them harm. Especially since Lenora knows to keep it to herself. This is Arvin’s last year with her in school, he’ll graduate soon and leave her alone, and soon all she’ll have is the lingering memories of the two of them pressed together, close enough to touch. 

“Maybe the Lord’ll give me a good husband if I pray hard enough,” she declares, shutting her book close. 

Arvin narrows his eyes at her. “Best not to pray for things you want,” he warns her as he rises from the ground, dusting the grass off his jeans. He reaches down, offering a hand to pull her up.

Lenora clings to him tight. He doesn’t have to tell her twice. She knows better than to ask God for the things she really wants.

* * *

When they were younger, Arvin and Lenora used to spend their summers running in the woods together, smacking sticks on the trees and skipping stones on the river. They don’t have much money for toys but they have each other and a giant backyard to play in. For birthdays, Grandma Emma’s indulgence is making them a cake, a rare sweet treat.

Arvin’s always been clever. He makes money where he can, delivering goods for old man Robbins or doing yard work for some of the richer families in town. Whenever Lenora’s birthday comes around, he manages to get her a little something. The year she turns eleven, he manages to save up enough money to buy her a good hairbrush with thick bristles, in such good quality that Emma is openly shocked when he gives it to her.

Lenora ain't nearly as clever as he is. For his birthday she’ll braid him flower crowns or make sure to help make him a dynamite dinner, but she doesn’t have money to give him anything. Arvin doesn’t seem to mind. He takes her meager gifts with that little smile he has especially for her. 

But Arvin’s turning seventeen this year. She wants to give him something, something good. Something than only she can give him.

Nothing comes to mind. 

She’s still thinking on it, panicking a little even, with his birthday only a week away. Chewing on the end of her pencil in her history lesson, not listening to Mr. Lane go over the Great Depression. Lenora’s not the only one distracted, the girls in the row in front of her whispering and giggling to each other. Elizabeth and Judy, the latter whispering about how just the other day she and Tommy “did it” for the first time.

“Judy, you’re so _bad_ ,” Elizabeth gasps, horrified and delighted. 

Judy’s got a secretive smile on her. “It wasn’t bad,” she says confidently. “Tommy’s gonna marry me, y'know. I’m just giving him his gift a little early, that’s all.”

Mr. Lane tells both of them to stop jabbering, so they both shut up real quick after that. But Judy’s words stay with her long after she leaves school for the day.

Lenora doesn’t have any girlfriends to talk with about boys but she’s overheard enough. She blends well in the background, quiet and keeping to herself, and the girls tend to forget she’s there when they start talking. She’s learned a lot of things this way. It’s through this eavesdropping that she knows the most special gift a woman can give, is herself.

She also knows that gift is meant for her future husband.

And maybe this is still the little girl in her. That little girl that was so ready to marry Arvin and unite their families, binding them together forever. Even though she’s grown from that, she’s still a silly little girl. Especially when it comes to Arvin.

The heart of the matter is, she wouldn’t mind giving that gift to Arvin. Not at all.

She can’t stop thinking about it. Their bodies, slick and bare, pressed up closer than anything. Arvin’s hands on her. She knows it's wrong. She knows. But her mind shamelessly nurses this fantasy, unrepentantly indulgent, all under the pretense of giving Arvin a gift.

Lenora’s still stuck on it even when Arvin’s birthday finally arrives, lingering up until they bring out his simple butter cake. Arvin meets her gaze, smiling bright and true as she sings to him. He always did like it when she sang to him.

Arvin lets her hug him close and she wonders if he’d be alright with being even closer.

The words are on the tip of her tongue, waiting to stumble out, watching quietly as Earskell gifts Arvin his daddy’s old. gun. _I have another gift for you,_ she thinks. Something just as special.

Before she realizes it, the night has passed and she’s in her bedroom, staring down at her naked body. Lenora is skinny, small breasts and flat stomach, round in her hips and her cheeks, but with sharp elbows and jutting collarbones. She’s not pretty like Elizabeth or flashy like Judy.

She’s just… Lenora.

She tugs her nightgown over her body with more force than necessary, taking a deep breath and marching out of her room to Arvin’s. She’ll just tell him, and push him to bed and that’ll be that. The fantasy of a more assertive, confident her starts to manifest in her mind. Someone who doesn’t care what anyone thinks, and just went after what she wants.

Too caught up in her thoughts, she doesn’t notice Arvin coming out of his bedroom until she crashes into him. Arvin immediately grabs her arms, steadying her on her feet.

“Whoa,” he says lowly. “Where you off to in such a hurry, huh?”

Lenora’s entire face goes red. All the things she’d been gearing up to say die on her lips. Arvin’s looking at her, puzzled but fond, a cigarette in his hand. “Uncle Earskell and I were gonna have a smoke,” he says when he notices her eyes flicker in that direction. The beer Earskell let him have at dinner has him relaxed, more talkative than normal. “You need somethin’?”

“I didn’t get you a birthday present,” is all that comes out of her mouth, small and stupid. 

Arvin smiles at her, that smile that’s just for her. A brotherly smile, a kindly smile. “You made me that cake didn’t you?” He ruffles her hair, a rare display of him showing affection first. “Besides, you just being here is enough.”

She stares at her brother, at his strong jaw and his dark eyes that only ever soften for her. She takes all of him in, her belly coiling hot with something she’s too scared to name.

 _I’ll be your present_ , Lenora thinks. _I’ll be -_

It’s too late. Arvin’s bidding her goodnight, turning away from her, and Lenora’s missed her chance. Stupid silly girl with her stupid silly ideas.

Lenora watches him go, feeling small in her ratty nightgown. She knows she’s not much, but she’d give all of her to Arvin. If he wanted her. Only if.

* * *

The months that follow Arvin’s ] birthday are strange. Arvin is moodier than usual, gloomy and sullen. He smokes a lot more, and throws his all into finding work, whether it be laying concrete or brick. He feels far away from her, drifting somewhere that Lenora can’t see.

It makes her anxious. 

But he still drops her off to school every morning and picks her up. That’s something, seeing his face at the start and end of every day. It’s unbearably lonely being at school without his steady strong presence, but Lenora tries to do what he tells her and keeps her head down.

Still. 

Trouble seems to follow Lenora more frequently than her family would like and she finds herself forced on her knees, Gene and his friends jeering at her. Lenora doesn’t even respond as they insult her appearance, call her a “brother fucker” as always. She just clasps her hands together in prayer, quietly asking God for mercy.

God doesn’t answer but Arvin does, descending upon her tormentors like a heroic knight from her fairy tales. But this isn’t a fairy tale and they quickly overcome him, despite her screams for them to stop. Lenora only ever screams when they hurt Arvin. 

Arvin isn’t like her. He never sits there and takes it. They’re all small-town people but the likes of Dinwoodie, Matson, and Buckman have fathers with steady jobs, mothers in new dresses, and nice houses. They don’t struggle to put food on the table, the way the Russells do. Emma and Earskell, burdened by tragedy, have learned to fade into the background of the town. Commandeering little respect, some pity, and mostly indifference.

Arvin can’t stand any of it.

So he swears at the boys hitting him, calls them all sorts of names even if it leaves him with a bloody nose and bruised cheek. Lenora whimpers as if she’s the one they’ve beat, curling around his fallen body. 

They’re both silent on the drive to the church, Arvin sniffing on occasion. He stands a ways away from her while she visits Mama, quietly telling her about her day. She always feels the most connected to Mama like this. Grandma Emma tells her she’d been a devout woman, going to church every Sunday and always having a prayer and a smile for everyone.

_Then why did God let such a terrible thing happen to her?_

Lenora smiles sadly to herself. Thinking like that won’t do her any good, it never does. Flips open her Bible for a verse to read to herself for comfort. _For surely there is a hereafter, and your hope will not be cut off…_

She looks up at her reason to hope standing with his shoulders hunched like he’s got the whole weight of the world resting on them. “Arvin?”

Lenora had to learn at a young age how to patch Arvin up. The bullying didn’t get any better the older they got, despite Lenora trying to blend into the background the way her family does. So Arvin didn’t stop fighting for her, outmatched as he was. He wouldn’t stop despite her protests so she learned how to clean his face, stitch him up if it ever got real bad. 

He’s angrier than normal with her, she can tell even after she’s wiped his nose clean and gently scolded him. Probably ‘cause he’s not there to look out for her, glare at any boys who make weird comments. Yeah, he’s in a foul mood, voice coming out harsh and brittle, gravel scraping on her. 

She tries not to let it get to her.

“You already do enough praying for all of us, and where’s it doing you much good huh?”

No nonsense, so straight to the point, it almost feels cruel. Arvin always knows how to get to her.

Even when she tries to change the subject, like she usually does when things get tense, he’s not having it today. It stings a little, him talking to her like that, especially about her daddy. Lenora ain’t smart by any measure, but even she knows when Arvin’s being cruel to her. It doesn’t happen too often, but she knows when he is.

Still, she keeps on smiling, even at his sarcastic drawl. “I hope so,” she says in response to his quip about her daddy dancing back into town. It’s her mama she carries around with her but Earskell tells her that she got his eyes. Lenora wishes she could see them in person. “I pray every day he will.”

Arvin’s jaw tenses. “Even if it means he did something?”

Neither of them are strangers to rumors. Nobody knows the truth about Willard’s mysterious death, Grandma Emma keeps her trap shut tight on that. But everyone knows about her mama being found dead in the woods, and her daddy and uncle being the last people to see her. Disappearing without a trace. 

_See the Laferty girl,_ they often whisper with pity. _Her daddy went on and lost his mind, killing her poor mama the way he did._

Lenora sniffs. “I’ve already forgiven him.”

Arvin is unmoved by her declaration. “Hm.”

Her eyes feel watery. She looks down. “We could start over.”

“That’s crazy.”

“No, it’s not.”

Well, at least this feels normal even if Arvin is being more mean than he has to be. He’s never shy about sharing his opinion when he’s in a talkative mood and they’ll go back and forth on a subject like this. Lenora likes it, even if he calls her silly. Arvin doesn't talk to people much. It makes her feel special that he talks to her.

Then Lenora crosses the line by bringing up his father and it’s like the winter winds have come in with the way he looks at her. She apologizes immediately, cheeks heating up with guilt. It ain’t her place to bring that up. She knows he’s sensitive about it.

Arvin, bless him, forgives her immediately. He doesn’t squeeze her hand when she grabs his, but his shoulders relax as she tells him how grateful she is that he’s always coming with her.

“We’re kin,” Arvin says. “We look out for each other.”

Ah, that’s right. 

Arvin’s her brother. Has been ever since he came into town all those years ago and Emma put a name to what the two of them were to be to each other before she ever said a word to him. 

Never mind that Lenora herself can’t put a name to what she feels for Arvin, what’s been growing inside her, thick and steady, like the overgrown weeds in the woods she and Arvin used to play in. Never mind that Lenora doesn’t think “brother” is a big enough word to describe what Arvin is to her, but it’ll have to do because that’s what’s proper.

Never mind all of that. Arvin sees her as a sister and that’s all that matters. Always there for her, but always out of reach. Closer than most but not close enough.

Their little argument stays with her even after Arvin’s driven them home and they’ve had supper. She turns over every word, thinking about the line she crossed and how part of her desperately wanted him to meet her in the middle. 

Lenora wishes that she was a strong and charming sort that could move her stone-hearted brother with sweet words. She wishes that he would let her in to take away some of his pain that he’s been carrying since she met him. She’d gladly do it. She would love nothing more than to ease that painful burden. To finally give back what he’s always given her.

She would do anything for him. 

Arvin doesn’t want that from her though. It’s not a sister’s place.

For now, all she can do is pray on it.

* * *

It feels like a betrayal when Arvin doesn’t come with her to Mama’s grave. 

She’s feeling especially shaken since the boys were making eyes at her all day at school, to the point where she has to make a mad dash to the car to avoid anything they might’ve been planning. Arvin’s eyes narrow at the sight of her distress and he turns his head back to glare at the boys jeering her name.

Lenora can’t quite believe it when Arvin tells her to go on without him. Things to take care of, he says. _What things?_ Lenora thinks fretfully. “C-Can’t they wait until after I see Mama?” She doesn’t want to be alone. She wants to be with him. She’ll make it a short visit, if she must, so long as he stays with her.

Arvin won’t budge, even at her pleading stare, and Lenora gets out of the car, feeling numb. She slams the car door harder than she needs to, and wobbles over to her mother’s grave on shaky legs.

It’s a stupid thing to cry about. It’s not right for her to kick up such a fuss when Arvin is older, practically a man now, and she can’t keep taking up all his time. Still, it feels unfair. Arvin keeps getting further and further away from her and she doesn’t know what to do about it. 

Or if anything can be done.

“I don’t want to lose him,” she confesses quietly to her mother. Just then, the sky opens up and rain starts falling on her head, an open disapproval for her feelings. Arvin ain't hers to lose in the first place. But she can’t help what she feels.

She feels on the verge of tears again when the preacher opens the church doors.

Despite her earlier defense of him, there’s something about the new preacher that makes Lenora feel uneasy. Arvin openly dislikes him, ever since he embarrassed poor Grandma Emma the way that he did. But Lenora is taken by him every Sunday - there’s something in the way he holds himself that attracts the eye. She can’t look away.

He’s not comforting like Reverend Sykes. But he holds God’s will in his hands and for that, Lenora is willing to trust in him.

That’s what she tells herself when he leads her to his car, hand on the small of her back.

The next hour passes by like a dream. Lenora feels sick to her stomach for most of it but keeps repeating Preacher Teagardin’s words in her mind. Showing herself in all her glory to God, opening her heart and soul and every other part of her. He made her and in return, she can show herself to Him.

It mostly hurts. There’s hints of other sensations that make her skin heat up, but it mostly hurts. Lenora lets herself drift away, feeling far from her body and what’s happening to her. From the weight on her chest and the sharp pain in between her legs.

She wonders what Arvin is doing. She’s still wondering, long after the preacher pulls out and brings her back to the church. He leaves her by her mama’s tombstone, her legs trembling.

When Arvin comes to pick her up, she can see the battered bloody skin on his knuckles as soon as she slides into the passenger seat. She makes a concerned noise, gently running her fingers over them, almost glad for the distraction. “We gotta get this cleaned up,” she murmurs quietly. 

He sighs around his cigarette. “Leave it. It don’t hurt none.” 

If Lenora wasn’t already feeling raw from all that happened earlier, she would’ve cleaned up Arvin’s knuckles regardless of what he says about it. As it is, she just quietly retreats, taking his refusal as rejection.

 _Alright then_ , she thinks quietly to herself. Fine. If this is how it has to be, then that’s just fine. If Arvin is growing apart from her, Lenora is just going to have to deal with it. She can handle herself just fine. Why, she’s a woman now.

That fact hits her hard. She’s a woman now, and Arvin doesn’t even know. Arvin, who knows nearly everything about her, has no idea what she’s just done with the preacher in his flashy car. Just as Arvin’s become a working man, she’s just become a woman, and she’s got the ache in between her legs to prove it.

It’s a strange feeling, flaring in her belly, hot and searing, at this realization. Something like shame. Something like power.

Lenora feels very far away when she tells him that he doesn’t have to come with her to her mama’s grave anymore. Since he has better things to do and all. Part of her hopes that he’ll prove her wrong, that he’ll protest. Chuck it up to brotherly instinct or something. Lenora would’ve taken anything. Anything to keep him.

Instead, Arvin just looks at her for a long while before grunting in acknowledgement. On the drive home, Lenora burns like a flame, lost in heartbreak and resentment. She doesn’t think of God, not even once. The feeling inside her ain't something He can guide.

This here is for the Devil's hands.

* * *

For all that they’ve shared together in the weeks that pass, Lenora still clenches up nervously whenever Preacher Teagardin leans in for a kiss. He seems to enjoy it, how skittish she gets, a newborn lamb walking on shaky legs. Not that he spends a lot of time on the kissing, more interested in getting under her dress.

She prefers it that way. Kissing feels too intimate. Too sweet. Ain’t nothing sweet about what she and the preacher are doing. It’s for the Lord’s eyes, so he says, but that feels wrong. It doesn’t feel right, that He would watch over people as they do this. 

Maybe there really are things that God has no place in.

There’s some pain every now and then, especially when the good preacher is feeling particularly impatient. But he teaches her too. Teaches her how to touch herself to get all slick and ready for him. Shows her exactly how she should lift her legs and arch her back.

But he doesn’t spend much time on kissing. He seems pleased that he’s taken her first kiss, eyes glinting in a way that makes her shiver unpleasantly.

It ain't the truth though. Preacher Teagardin might’ve given her a lot of first times, but the memory of her first kiss is something sacred and special. She keeps it close to her chest.

Lenora remembers that afternoon vividly. It’d been warm and sunny, her and Arvin running out to the woods after doing their chores. Arvin had finally hit his growth spurt, shooting several inches taller than her. They were getting older but still young enough to goof around together.

Most parents don’t let their children wander in the woods without supervision but Arvin and Lenora know the area better than anyone. It had surprised both of them to come across a couple entangled with each other, the man practically eating his girl’s face.

Lenora had gasped, too loudly. She’d never seen anyone kissing before. Arvin had hushed her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away quick before the couple could notice their gawking.

They’d been quiet for a while as they walked, Lenora ruminating over that kiss. Her hand naturally came up to curl around his, Arvin not yet old enough to feel self conscious about holding her hand. 

“D’you reckon kissing hurts?” she’d asked Arvin, just bursting with curiosity. It was an honest question. It really did look like he’d been _eating_ her. Lenora doesn’t think that would feel very nice.

“...Don’t think so.” Arvin hadn’t let go of her hand but he’s not looking in the eye as he speaks. “My mama… she always kissed my daddy when he came home.” 

He shrugs a little and Lenora tries to imagine what that would look like. They’re two orphans, living in a mismatched house, no mama or daddy who love each other and kiss each other goodnight. Emma and Earskell are siblings too, both their loved ones buried in the ground like the rest of them. Their love is all quiet and locked up in them.

Lenora remembers how sad Arvin had looked. She had no memories of her mama and daddy, couldn’t even imagine them together, but Arvin knew what it looked like when his parents loved each other. It must’ve been hard to lose that.

She’s the one who leans forward. Opening her mouth a little and pushing it against Arvin’s with a wet smack. Arvin’s head snapped up so quickly, he nearly hit Lenora’s nose with his head. 

“I don’t think I did it right,” Lenora’d muttered, putting her fingers on her mouth. It didn’t really feel much like anything, just a slight tingle. Arvin was quiet, the way he always was, and when he’d taken hold of her chin, Lenora only blinked at him, guileless. 

“Why’d you do that?” he’d asked and it was so easy to answer. Even if she knew it was wrong.

“Because I love you,” she’d replied simply. Life was full of mysteries and a lot of things in Lenora’s life didn’t make much sense. But God’s grace, and loving Arvin, these things she knew better than most. These things she knew were true.

They never talk about that kiss. The way Arvin had stared at her, his face blank and his lips pursed. The way he stayed so quiet, even when Lenora leaned in a second time and Arvin met her in the middle, moving his mouth softly against hers. It was wet and warm and Lenora wanted more.

But Arvin ended it. Lenora starts things, and he ends them. It’s just the way they are. He ended it and she’d known instinctively that they were never to speak of it.

Now with the preacher attempting to stick his tongue down her throat, she’s grateful that she still has the memory of that kiss, as sweet and gentle as the sun on her face.

She thinks about all the first times she’s had with Arvin. And then all the firsts she’d had without him. It makes her feel a little sick.

Truth is, if she had it her way, she would’ve had all her firsts with him.

Lenora is full of sin. She knows that. Not just for letting the preacher take off her dress and touch her where only her husband should be touching. Not just for going against what the Bible says she should do. It goes further than that.

There’s a reason she’s never let the taunt “brother-fucker” get to her. It should fill her with revulsion, make her hot with shame, but it doesn’t. It just washes over her like water. There’s no sense in getting angry about it. She knows the truth, and so does God. 

But the preacher doesn’t. So she’ll keep letting him touch her with those greedy selfish hands, all the while closing her eyes and picturing her brother’s mouth curved in a smile as her peak crashes over her, warming her from head to toe.

* * *

The baby changes everything.

She wakes up early for the third morning in the row to vomit in the basin when she realizes that something is off. Lenora doesn’t consider herself clever by any measure, but even she knows what happens when a man lies with a woman. She cups her belly after she’s done, crippled with fear and disbelief.

Of course she goes to Preacher Teagardin. What else was she supposed to do? He’d at least guide her in the right direction. Help her. The thing she isn’t expecting is the complete lack of sympathy from him. His empty, uncaring gaze as he tells her in that sly croon of his that she is crazy. Lenora is a lot of things, a sinner, a disgrace, but she’s not crazy. Not about this.

 _We did those things in your car,_ she thinks hotly. _You did them to me and I let you._

But his words continue to swirl around her mind like poison. Lenora can picture it, her stomach growing big with child, the shameful shock Grandma Emma would feel, the resigned anger from Uncle Earskell. The talk of the town. Scandal and outrage. No one to marry her and cover it up.

And Arvin.

God, Arvin.

She can’t imagine how he’d look. She can’t imagine telling him. She can’t imagine this being the thing that makes her lose him for good. She drifts through the next week, sick to her stomach and heart full of dread. 

She’s ruined everything. And for what? A sneaky man that doesn’t care about her and a baby that’ll break her precious little family apart.

Lenora doesn’t think to ask God for help. She knows He won’t answer her. 

Arvin notices her getting sick. Because of course he does. He’s Arvin. Somehow, Lenora can hide an affair with a grown man without him suspecting a thing but the minute she loses her appetite and dinner and rises early to throw up, he immediately notices.

Lenora refuses to face the bitterness that rises up at this. She refuses to let it swallow her whole. Even though a part of her wants to slap his hands away from her. _Why didn’t you see it earlier?_ she wants to scream at him. _Why didn’t you save me?_

She pushes that ugly twisted feeling deep inside her. It’s easy to do, when she’s too busy trying to ignore how Arvin’s gentle, careful concern breaks her heart to pieces. In any other circumstance, she would be over the moon for a scrap of his quiet affection.

Now, it just makes her want to die. 

Arvin holds her hair back as she empties her guts Sunday morning, knowing that she’s not going to church. She can’t bear to step into the place that was supposed to be her solace, knowing it’s been desecrated by the preacher and his vile smile.

“I’m so ashamed,” she says, the bile still burning in her throat. That’s the truth, she’s ashamed for all the choices she made that got her to this point. Ashamed both of the things that she’s done and the things that she still wants. 

Tears threaten to fall, burning her eyes at the way Arvin tries to comfort her. Her brother, too kind and good. Selfishly, she leans against him, enjoying his hands in her hair, the warmth of his body close to her. She doesn’t deserve it, not even a little bit, but she’s going to take what she can. 

Part of her wants to admit to everything, to have him hold her and tell her everything is gonna be alright. Arvin said the Lord would forgive her, but would he?

She’s too terrified to think about the answer.

“I love you, Arvin,” she whispers softly. If this is the last time she’s gonna see him, she might as well say it. Arvin looks startled by her admission and doesn’t reply. It’s a little disappointing, but expected. 

After all, he doesn’t know it’s the last time.

She closes her eyes before he leaves, feigning sleep. If she has to watch him go, she doesn’t think she could actually go through with it.

She waits, lying in bed and quietly gathering the strength to do what she has to. Waits until she can hear Uncle Earskell’s loud snores from the living room before quietly tiptoeing out of the house. The bucket and rope are waiting for her in the barn. 

Her mind is buzzing, cicadas in the summer, as she gets everything ready. She’s doing this for her family, to save them from the shame. She’s doing this for the baby inside her, who wouldn’t be able to live a normal life. She’s doing this for the preacher, who wants to avoid the scandal.

...No, that ain't right.

Her body’s trembling. She’s terrified. She’s doing this because she’s terrified. There’s no other way. She doesn’t know what else to do, with this baby in her belly, and her whole body reeking of sin. She doesn’t, she doesn’t.

Lenora doesn't want to die.

It's a terrible time to have this realization, with the noose wrapped around her neck, and her legs trembling to stay steady on the bucket. But it hits her like lightning, quick and electrifying, quickening her pulse and heating her skin. Her hands are clammy as she scrambles to undo the noose, whispering for forgiveness from God as he does so.

Then, the barn door slams open and Arvin’s running in, pale-faced, wild-eyed. The look on his face when he locks eyes with Lenora makes her heart stop.

She wants to explain, will do anything to wipe that horrified, broken expression clean off him. In her desperation to get the noose off, she stumbles instead.

It hurts. Choking like this, it hurts. Lenora can faintly hear Arvin screaming her name but her vision is blurring, legs kicking out desperately. She’s going to die. She’s going to die and Arvin is going to watch her go.

_Lord forgive me for my transgressions. Lord take me into your arms. Forgive me, forgive me._

But it’s Arvin’s strong arms she ends up in, his hands clutching at her shoulders, _“No, no, no, just breathe Nora c’mon please,”_ blabbering like a broken record, rocking her back and forth. She’s coughing, gulping in bursts of air greedily to soothe her burning lungs. Blood rushing in her ears. Tears streaming down her face.

When she croaks his name out, Arvin’s whole body goes still. She can’t see his face clearly, tears still blinking down her face, but she still reaches out, brushing her fingers against his jaw.

“Lenora,” he mutters, grabbing her hand, squeezing hard. “Jesus fucking Christ, _Lenora_.” It hurts, but Lenora relishes in it. It means she’s alive. Alive and still with him. A hysterical sob breaks out of her throat, painful but sweet. 

Lenora can take this pain, so long as he keeps holding her.

Arvin says her name again and again, whispering it like a prayer, in a small ragged voice she’s never heard before. An open wound. His hands are everywhere, petting her hair, touching her cheek, and underneath all the pain, that warm feeling she associates with Arvin rises up, spilling out through her tears and gasps.

“You saved me,” she breathes out when she finally manages to speak. Her voice is raw and ragged and Arvin’s entire face crumples at her words. He saved her. Like he always does. Lenora at the end of her rope, looking for salvation, and Arvin coming to her rescue. If the Lord does love her, as He loves all his children, Arvin must love her more. 

How else would he know when she needs him?

Arvin doesn’t respond. Just cups the side of her neck, fingers pressed against her pulse point. Stroking the sensitive skin over and over.

That’s how Grandma Emma and Uncle Earskell find them hours later, tangled up in the floor together. Like a pair of tragic lovers.

Lenora clings to him desperately and for once, Arvin holds onto her just as tight. The way it should be. The way she wants.

**Author's Note:**

> The fact that a song called "Young Love" plays when Arvin is beating up her tormentors is something that will haunt me forever. THAT'S ROMANCE! Thank you to the two people that will probably end up reading this! ~~technically there's a part 2 but it was getting so long I just wanted to post~~


End file.
